“That man, there!” said Barthorpe, suddenly pointing to Mr. Tertius. “He’s the forger! I accuse him to his face of forging every word, every letter of it from the first stroke to the final one. And I’ll give you enough evidence to prove it—enough evidence, at any rate, to prove it to any reasonable man or before a judge and jury. Forgery, I tell you!”
Mr. Halfpenny sat down again and became very calm and judicial. And he had at once to restrain Peggie Wynne, who during Barthorpe’s last speech had manifested signs of a desire to speak, and had begun to produce a sealed packet from her muff.
“Wait, my dear,” said Mr. Halfpenny. “Do not speak just now—you shall have an opportunity later—leave this to me at present. So you say you can prove that this will is a forgery, Mr. Barthorpe Herapath?” he continued, turning to the other side of the table. “Very well—since I suggested that you should come here, you shall certainly have the opportunity. But just allow me to ask Mr. Tertius a question—Tertius, you have heard what Mr. Frank Burchill has just said?”
“I have!” replied Mr. Tertius. “And—I am amazed!”
“You stand by what you said yourself? You gave us a perfectly truthful account of the execution of the will?”
“I stand by every word I said. I gave you—will give it again, anywhere!—a perfectly truthful account of the circumstances under which the will was signed and witnessed. I have made no mistakes—I am under no hallucination. I am—astonished!”
Mr. Halfpenny turned to Barthorpe with a wave of the hand.
“We are at your disposal, Mr. Barthorpe Herapath,” he said. “I leave the rest of these proceedings to you. You have openly and unqualifiedly accused Mr. Tertius of forging the will which we have all seen, and have said you can prove your accusations. Perhaps you’d better do it. Mind you!” he added, with a sudden heightening of tone, “mind you, I’m not asking you to prove anything. But if I know Tertius—and I think I do—he won’t object to your saying anything you like—we shall, perhaps, get at the truth by way of what you say. So—say on!”
“You’re very kind,” retorted Barthorpe. “I shall say on! But—I warned you—what I’ve got to say will give a good deal of pain to my cousin there. It would have been far better if you’d kept her out of this—still, she’d have had to hear it sooner or later in a court of justice——”
“It strikes me we shall have to hear a good deal in a court of justice—as you say, sooner or later,” interrupted Mr. Halfpenny, dryly. “So I don’t think you need spare Miss Wynne. I should advise you to go on, and let us become acquainted with what you’ve got to tell us.”